


The Colour Page

by Frankenskr



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, first fic in english, nothing about real people, something about ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankenskr/pseuds/Frankenskr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ABC is abbreviation for Association for Based Creations (I know it's too farfetched). And Enjolras, its leader, was the one who thought people need an archive of their own for fandom works. Grantaire finally became the "Fandom Consultant". They worked together, they argued a lot.<br/>Before Grantaire couldn't hold back anymore, before he mocked everything he believes and loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a head canon and nothing more. I don't know anyone involving in ao3's establishment in real life. I live in CHINA.  
> i don't know if it is okay to write a story like this and i would delete it immediately if it's not.  
> it's my first fic in english and i know I'm terrible in grammar. if you are interested in this story and willing to help me, tell me where i went wrong about the language directly or edit it for me if you want?  
> just try.

It was even kind of cruel when you walked out of a comic con and went home. The fantasy and amazing worlds were all behind you, and you just had to go back to the normal and dull reality which was so incomplete and full of injustice, sadness and prejudice. At lesast, that was what Enjolras felt as he drove down the street with Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac was even more excited than yesterday, the opening of this comic con, talking about all the actors and actress and cosers he had met. Combeferre looked a little tired, so he just nodded and smiled while listened mindlessly with his phone in his hand. They were almost home and it was over 12:30.

“I even met Eponine.” Courfeyrac said again, and finally, Enjolras decided to respond to that so he could at least skip to the next fanfic author he loves.

“I saw you two talk.” he said as he stopped and waited for the green light.

“Oh I want to fuck her.”

“You want to fuck every fanfic author you like.”

“Whatever you say, Enjolras, you are the one who has the least sexual experience in this car and I’ve already got her number.”

“She gave you number because she thought you as a reader.”

Enjolras found himself boring enough to even notice what an overwhelmed Courfeyrac had said. He suppressed the desire to fight back on this meaningless topic, and the desire to say some cons about the “least sexual experience” thing.

He blamed the psychological gap after the past two days.

“We also talked some serious stuff though, which is really weird in a comic con.”

Combeferre looked up from his phone and tossed an questionary look to Courfeyrac.

“Well, we started with the mericora’s post about legitimacy of fanfics, and she listed over 20 reasons why the fanfics are legal, from the huge reader group to some cites from copyright law. And that was the exact moment when I know I would love her. She is hot.”

This brought a few thoughtful minutes to the three of them, before Combeferre broke the silence.

“No.” he replied to his phone, “I will fuck her.”

Courfeyrac nearly chocked by his tongue, looking totally frightened. It was the first time their sexual preferences conflicted, definitely because Combeferre _chose_ not to think about anyone Courf wanted.

Enjolras drove into their parking pot, and offed the engine. They got out of the car and went upstairs to their own rooms while he noticed that Courfeyrac had been quiet for astonishingly two and a half minutes. He opened his room door, then looked back to see the two Cs both standing there waiting for him. Courfeyrad sighed.

“I can hear you planning something, Enj.”

Enjolras nodded, matter-of-factly: “We need an archive of our own.”

 

*******************

Most of the people involved in fanfic writing had the couscous to remain anonymous, not only because people actually didn’t want to pour too much personal informations into the internet even though they spent much more time on it, but also, there was a common sense that fanfics were very likely to be illegal.

Enjolras hated the thoughts about it.

His most interested field was Star Trek. He even tried to write himself, ended up with struggling out more than 5 short stories over the past 10 years, then decided to only be a reader. When 11-year-old little Enjolras first watched Star Trek, he was totally amazed by its progressiveness. In Star Trek, civilizations varied fiercely, societies respected different cultural backgrounds, and women held social positions of equal importance with men. Beyond its imagination and sci-fi theme, Star Trek lined out a future Enjolras wanted for years.

So, assumably, even though he knew there were a lot of writers focusing more on the bromance between Kirk and Spock, he believed that people just had the right to do so. Courfeyrac was one of his best mates and he was a bisexual (or a pansexual, more accurately). Joly no-doubly prefer male although he had never bothered to officially confirm it. If fangirls liked Kirk and Spock together when they wrote their own stories, there should be no law stepping in.

It was all about right and freedom. Like mericora said in her post on LJ, fanfics were some kind of transformative works of non-profit.

The not-for-profit part was essential.

Enjolras didn’t want people to think themselves illegal while doing something definitely their rightful rights. So he stepped out of his room wearing his red pajama and knocked Courfeyrac’s door.

It was 7:30 in the morning, Courfeyrac swore something loudly inside but opened the door instantly, as it could be no one but Enjolras.

“I need Eponine’s number.”

“What?!”

“Don’t go too far with your filthy mind. I need it for a serious purpose.”

Courfeyrac blinked. His mind recalled something automatically before he could properly think.

“Archive of our own.” he blurted out dryly.

“Glad you still remember.”

“How the hell does this link to Eponine’s number?”

“Obviously I think she is a suitable candidate to start this thing with.” Enjolras was running out of patience, “I want a website, or not only a website, where people can share their transformative works freely with those having the same interests. It’s like fanfiction.net but more than that. More organized and a easier access to download.”

Courfeyrac just stared.

“Well, I need some raw ideas and a  discussion with someone who is a writer.” 

“Whatever.” Courfeyrac looked defeated. He went in his room and fetched a pencil and piece of paper, “There, it’s the number you want. And just tell me to do anything necessary when you need me on this ‘archive of our own’, dear leader-in-red.”

“I am going to.” Enjolras took the piece of paper with Eponine’s number on it.

 _And_ , he thought as Courfeyrac shut the door, _it is quite a good name_.


	2. Chapter 2

The curtain that Grantaire never bothered to close of course couldn’t prevent the annoying sunlight from waking him up. He swore and struggled back to sleep like every noon, and finally sat up on his misery bed getting dressed like every noon.

He especially didn’t want to wake this time, because he dreamt a dream in which Marvel released a new series about “Wine Bottle”, who was a god-level hot superhero.

To be honest, he once imagined himself to be a cynic in 19 century Paris, with a wine bottle forever in either his right or left hand (the other holding a painting brush). He thought he would prefer wine at that time, while he preferred beer and vodka in modern age.

But the painting things would never change.

He glanced at the fanart he had done last night while walking to the bathroom. It was a scene he had in his subconscious for nearly a month, about Doctor and Master, drifting in the universe.

Almost the whole canvas was covered by different degrees and kinds of blue, among the blue there was stars and a TARDIS. It looked firstly cold and lonely, then, if focusing on the TARDIS, you could find some curved spaces and timelines of warm yellow.

The two, the very last two, only had each other in the massive endless universe. And that was enough.

Grantaire washed his face with random thoughts bumping in and fading out of his mind. He barely remembered having a class to attend two hours ago. Well, for the students majoring in art, courses were relatively less important while the final work took a larger part of the grade.

As for him, it was not a bad idea to finish up a fanart which looked not that like a fanart and handed it over by the end of the term.

Phone was always filled with notifications when he checked it every noon. Sometimes there would be countless appraises on his blog, about the fanart he posted recently. And there would be some news about his friends, mostly from Joly and Eponine.

Only rarely, Courfeyrac sent him messages not only directly but also before 11 am, which was Grantaire’s early-get-up time and Courf’s a-little-late-get-up time.

Even more seldom, Courfeyrac sent him a link at 9 am in the morning.

He sighed, and opened the link. Either there was something really terrible happened in this world, concerning all of them, or, there was something about Enjolras.

The goddamn adorable leader who sleep 2 am in the night just like Grantaire, but get up earlier than 7 am in the morning.

Enjolras was a mystery for him. How could someone sleep only 5 hours a day? And unfortunately, Grantaire liked mysteries. He liked things that were overwhelming.

The link was a website, made of deep red and white, neat and organized like what Enjolras would like. He didn’t notice the title because it seemed like a very strange name. But the purpose and function of this website was not hard to be seen. Grantaire understood it few seconds later. It was a website for fandoms.

He knew fandoms, a lot, he watched all the movies and tv series and read all the comics. He knew fandom works as well, and was the first group of fanfiction.net and livejournal users years ago. Eponine messaged him first because he painted a fanart for one of her most popular novellas. That was how their friendship began.

Whatever Courfeyrac wanted from him, he was already involved because the website could be easily telled to be Enjolras’s another masterpiece.

Grantaire indeed protested. He ordered pizza and then modified the Doctor/Master fanart, carefully took a picture of the fanart before posting it on the internet.

At about 3 pm, he grabbed his phone and texted Courfeyrac.

_What you fabulous people want from me this time?_

Courfeyrac must had been waiting for him all day. He replied him instantly with a huge smiley face.

_XDDDDD! you wake up finally!_

_I woke up 3 hours ago._

Before he could tossed his phone on his bed again, Courf called in.

“Why the hell are you calling me!” Grantaire shouted in frustration dramatically, “ You know I am not capable of talking to people!”

“Oh, my poor R, you really don’t want to do anything connected to Enj, do you?”

Grantaire could picture Courf’s thoroughly pleased face because of _his_ misfortune.

“What is he doing, again?”

“The website, obviously. Actually he picked up the name I firstly used. I didn’t think he could make it seven weeks ago although I literally wavered because he is Enjolras. But when we finished it…R, it’s amazing!”

Grantaire tried so hard to catch up: “It is a fandom web. Does he know that it is a fandom web?”

“Of course. He did it. No, not really. He searched me, Combeferre, Jehan, Marius and Bossuet. We three did a good frame work, Jehan responded for the typesetting and Bossuet the code. Oh, Marius. Marius _invested_ it.”

Grantaire was still not able to catch up. He felt rather confused. Enjolras was always doing things, that was not a surprise. Enjolras wrote some fanfics before, which he never let others read it ever since. So the fandom part should not be a surprise as well.

He had been quietly attending their meetings since his first year in this university.

“You haven’t brought it to the meetings.” he added before Courfeyrac could say anything, “It’s been over a month and you don’t see it as a Les Amis thing and — dose Enjolras really know that fandom websites are always full of romantic stories between characters rather than serious sequels of the original work?”

Courfeyrac chocked by his laugh: “I think he knows well enough, R.”

“Then what do you want from me.”

“We need someone to test the system, someone creates and appreciates fan works. We are calling this person ‘fandom consultant’, who can give us practical and useful advices that would really help.”

“And you think I am suitable.”

“He thinks you are perfectly suitable. You’ve been into this for so long and you know almost all the fandoms. You built great reputation in this circle already.”

Grantaire wanted to argue. It was kind of amazing that however conveyed, ideas from Enjolras could always provoke him. But he found himself not wanting to ruin it this time. Honestly, he was more than willing to do things like this, things he would really enjoyed.

“R, I’m not intended to interfere your decision and Combeferre tried to warn me that due to the ‘feelings’ you are processing you may not agree to do it. But I know you would like it. We know you would like it. There is no one else better…”

“I will do it.”

Courfeyrac sounded relieved instantly and started to blurt out nonsense. Grantaire knew Courf was not happy for the website but for him. They might not be very close if comparing to the two Cs and Enjolras, the triangle. But they were friends, no doubly.

“Just, don’t punch me too hard if I ruined your sweet Enj’s ambition.” he smiled to the phone, “You know I can’t help myself doing it.”

“No, I’d rather you do. I enjoyed watching you two quite a lot. There is some…intensely twitching sexual tension every time.”

“I wank on those memories daily.” Grantaire said dryly.

“Me and Joly have already written a fanfic for you two.” Courfeyrac grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you think of it?” Enjolras asked when Grantaire put a bottle near his mouth.

He blinked, forgot to continue and drink. The triangle were debating about legitimacy again. Although they never doubted it, they had to find a way to make the website entirely safe.

“I think you’ve done enough.”

Enjolras frowned, started to say something backwards, then suddenly Grantaire didn’t want to hear it.

“You invited me as a _fandom_ consultant, not a counsel. I know nothing about law, so I can only judge it in a general way. And I think that’s already enough. You’re the ones who are defending the legitimacy, at least have faith on it.” Grantaire paused and drank, “I’m just…please indulge me by not intendedly pulling me into this subject anymore. It feels awkward.”

“You agreed to do this.”

“Because of the fandoms.”

It was very ridiculous to require a positiveness from him. He was happy do join in the archive-of-our-own thing but there had never been a normality of him when facing Enjolras. Combeferre and Courfeyrac and everyone else knew and were okay with that, while Enjolras didn’t.

He fucking foresaw this.

“I’m sorry.” he said abruptly, “Just go on your subject and leave me alone.”

Enjolras definitely wanted to _comment_ on this but controlled himself successfully. Grantaire knew he couldn’t blame Enjolras because he didn’t know.

Surprisingly, Enjolras changed the subject to the next one, which was “a more distinctive characteristic”. They had already have most of the necessary functions of a fandom website. Users could directly download the work they like on the main page of a fanfic. They provided formats of pdf, html and doc, which were automatically created when a work was uploaded and posted.

“I can’t ensure the stability of the doc format.” Bossuet shook his head, “There’re too much problems about different versions of Microsoft Word.”

“Then we could just remove it. The website should feels perfect and easy to use, we provide doc whenever the code is thoroughly completed.” Combeferre suggested.

Enjolras looked at Bossuet for a permission, then nodded: “Okay, we remove it.”

“And if possible, add epub.”

Enjolras was not expecting and a little surprised by Grantaire’s joining. He had to admit that it is a good proposal. It reminded him Grantaire was the most experienced user in this room. He was surprised because Grantaire were being really prospective.

“Don’t look at me like this, Apollo. I may not be comfortable working with you, but alcohol and fandom smooth me. I do have a brain, to your astonishment.” Grantaire toasted on him, “And one more thing, I’ve been thinking of it for days. Please at least give your website a nick name, for remembrance and introducing, if you’re not intended to change it.”

Enjolras just thought, then nodded: “What’s your suggestion then?”

Grantaire was going to feel sick and strange because everyone was waiting for him to say something.

“AO3.”

“What?”

“Is that too weird?” he retreated, “Archive of Our Own, AO3.”

Joly blinked rapidly at him, Grantaire waited for whatever he was going to shout out.

“R, you are brilliant! That is brilliant!”

He knew this, he knew this whole thing would go completely wrong like this eventually.

“Just saying.” he murmured and shifted, trying to get rid of the embarrassment.

Enjolras didn’t comment or argue on this, so he was impressed too. Grantaire wanted to look up to see what expression the blondie was wearing, but he wouldn’t dare. He was always brilliant in front of his friends, while never dared to be brilliant in front of Enjolras.

General Enjolras didn’t say anything and led the meeting on. Ninety minutes later, Grantaire was drunk and drained, suffering from both tiredness and thrill.

He couldn’t tell what exactly happened after the meeting. Part of him wondering how could his friends let him go home alone like this when the cold and wet wind blowed him to sober.

A cold wind was particularly unwelcome when it was wet as well. Those winds would tear one’s bone apart, freeze the mind and kill the pathetic little hope inside. Grantaire could never fight against it.

He looked up to the night sky, then looked down, then looked aside to find Enjolras walking with him.

“What the fu—?!”

Enjolras, startled a little, was studying him. The expression on that perfect lined face suggested that Enjolras started to catch up with his logic.

“So you recognise me,” he seemed relieved, “which means you’re soberer now.”

Although relieved, Enjolras still looked worried. Grantaire stared him for a moment and burst out laughing: “You must be kidding me, Apollo. Are you worrying about me? You can’t be worried about me.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Because I said so.”

“And I’m always doubting you, you know.”

That argument made sense to Grantaire.

They remained silent for a while, then Enjolras seemed decided to _talk_ to him.

He tried, and sighed.

“I don’t how much you listened afterwards, anyway, we discussed about some characteristics of AO3. One of them is called ‘kudos’, which could be given when the reader thinks this work worth a praise. It kind of…reflects how good a work is.”

“Really good one. Then other readers can refer to it.”

“Exactly.”

They fell back into silence again. The wind was softer as they turned to the street where Grantaire lives.

There was 150 feet remained. Then 100, 80, 60, 50…10.

Enjolras stopped first. He turned to look Grantaire right into the eyes.

“Well, R, if working with me is that hard for you, then don’t push yourself.” he said even softly.

Grantaire didn’t know what to say. He liked it when Enjolras used his nickname. The night and alcohol made him even more intended to be honest to himself, so he admitted that he actually wanted to be with Enjolras, however painful it would be.

“Your judgement has never been wrong.” he said finally.

“So?”

Grantaire smiled, because Enjolras didn’t even try to deny it: “So you were not wrong about me, about me suitable for a work like this. I like it when people dig out new possibilities of a character. I want to serve the people who can do that.”

“So do I.” Enjolras stepped back a little, “I want this website to be a good thing, to people, to us. If you think all these worth it, then tolerate me and don’t throw your sentiment to your innocent friends anymore.”

The reality fell back on Grantaire again, but he was glad. He eventually felt less illusive. He hated illusion because he was already impractical enough.

“Please enjoy it.” Enjolras said, before he turned and walked away.

His Apollo was indeed infectious. Grantaire could find some urge to make AO3 better deeply inside of him. Unbelievable. It was like…gravity. And with that he knew which direction was upside and which was down.

Red, he liked red. The website was made mostly of red.

He had a good taste.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sleeping less than five hours gave Enjolras a gift called night time. It felt like the world was observed every night by him. He gathered informations for unknown upcoming reasons. He needed to see, because he needed to know, because he wanted to see the future. Was there really a luciferous tomorrow, or what else should be done to achieve one?

Enjolras preferred tea than caffeine. He relied so much on the nights, when people stopped for a brief moment, leaving another day behind. He could taste how everybody lived in the past few days, to know what they would be like the next morning.

Eponine posted another chapter of her new fanfic yesterday. It was in alternate universe, a modern setting. The story was about spies and codes based on _Merlin_. Arthur Pendragon was the king of Britain and Merlin was sent to be his servant as a spy, working for a faked country named Blessland. Blessland, under control of sorceries, wanted to restore its position as the governor of Europe, as the first step to take down the whole world.

She had an unlimited talent of implying stories. Enjolras could tell the trace of Greek mythology twisting beautifully with ideas from Neil Gaiman’s _The Graveyard Book_. She would definitely make a fortune simply by selling some original stories, but she dedicated her talent into fan works. Enjolras respected that.

His phone buzzed, a text from Marius.

_oh my god do you know her_

Enjolras thought of all the informations in his head, and he couldn’t make Marius any sense. He unlocked his phone and was going to text Marius back, while the phone buzzed again with another text from that somehow frantic boy.

_im sorry but i want all of you to know so i mass texted it_

He frowned, and aborted typing.

Almost a minute later, another text bumped in.

_thanks joly she’s definitely not a ghost and…oh maybe she is but a very fair one. i just saw her on the book-sighing this afternoon, her name is Cosette. yes the rising star who wrote One Day More. can you believe it? i mean, she smiled at me sweetly and we talked for four minutes and she ASKED MY NUMBER. R i think i need some wine thanks for offering._

Enjolras soon lost his interest, although he was wholeheartedly happy for his friend. It was very obvious that Cosette was interested as well, Marius had enough reason to mass text all his friend because he fell in love so quickly and mutually.

That was a good thing, that was very rare. That kind of love was a miracle in this world.

He was brought to a lighthearted mood. The news page now seemed dull to him. So he closed the web page and picked his phone.

Marius must be busy texting back everyone now, so he hesitated on the contracts. Combeferre slept early, Courfeyrac must be texting Marius. Bossuet and Joly and Jehan…it may literally startle them if receive a non-purpose text from him.

He chose Grantaire.

He started with a capital R and deleted it. Different subjects flew through his mind and he would be so regret later because he used the worst one.

_It’s not good for one’s health to drink so late._

Enjolras waited and waited until he lost his patience. He lost his patience frequently. There were always things waiting for him, so he just left his phone on the desk and went to the book shelf on the right side of his room.

Voltaire was good. Voltaire thought. The coldness and loneliness of a French stuck there like needle and bone. Enjolras forced himself into Voltaire for over ten minutes. Then he couldn’t hold himself back from reaching for his phone anymore.

There were messages. He must had missed the buzzes because of Voltaire.

_areyou?_

_enjolras? wtf?_

_sorry i just wasn’t expecting that. so you also heard about marius? i dont know. do you think it a good thing?_

_okay. if you dont want to talk to me or you was intended to send it to marius and chose the wrong num from ur contacts, its alright_

The last text was from thirteen minutes ago and Enjolras panicked. He hadn’t panicked even when he was nearly sent to prison and he panicked for missing some massages he had waited for.

Grantaire’s last message stung. It was full of retreat and self-doubting and...mess. Enjolras felt terribly sorry for letting his friend down. He didn’t even know how but Grantaire seemed started to value his contact all of a sudden.

He sent back a message as swiftly as he could.

_Sorry, I was reading. Voltaire. Yes I think it is great for Marius_

He paused, thought of what to say, and kept going.

_Do you think it is good for AO3 to category works based on fandoms and relationships?_

The waiting was not that long this time. Grantaire should be checking his message occasionally.

_yeah, of course. and tags, maybe. maybe sorting and filtering works by tags_

Enjolras widened his eyes by reading this suggestion. Grantaire understood his idea really, really good. How could he never thought of this before?

_Tell me a way to praise you without making you think it perfunctory._

_drink with me_

Enjolras chuckled because he should have known it.

He didn’t reply. A whole day’s operation finally worked on him. Lying on his bed, he felt content and peace. The past 18 hours were not a waste.

And Grantaire. They exchanged ideas about the website without arguing. He made their friendship closer rather than ruined it again. Grantaire even invited him to a drink. Enjolras knew it wasn't serious but he was satisfied to himself for trying Grantaire on this project, for trying Grantaire on something he liked.

Before he fell asleep, his phone buzzed again. Marius called a party friday night for introducing Cosette to them.

 

***************

Grantaire had to hand over a painting about “A Floating Air Conditioner” by 8 am in the morning so he skipped sleeping last night. His tutor who _created_ this subject must have a stroke or something. Or, he knew about Grantaire’s fanart trick and was too strict to his student.

To wake in the afternoon was anything but comfort. He opened his eyes seeing a setting sun and a room full of vague grey. People went home from work, with relax and content, being stuck in the traffic. Thick air flew through his lung, bringing exhaust into every cells and vessels. It felt fucking like another century.

There was a reason why Grantaire took every chances to avoid waking up in the afternoon, why afternoon was so inadequate for him.

He moved out of his bed, tried to put on a relatively clean shirt. He pushed to his limit to fight agains the depression brought by the surroundings. Washing his face with cold water and some fresh fruit might be a good idea but as there wasn’t any trace of fruits, he chose wine, the closest one.

Grantaire magically managed to handed over the painting on time. He drew a thin coating drifting in god know where within which there was full of happiness and warmth, surrounded by some remote and furious images. That painting was not bad, he knew it, and he tried to create satisfaction to himself by recalling it in his memory. But that didn’t work, so he fetched and checked his phone, swearing.

Nothing happened. No war broke out during the last eight hours. No one died. No one called him except Eponine.

Eponine called him every day.

He dialed her number by sheer memory. The routine must be done otherwise he wouldn't know how to start his day. First thing, alcohol, secondly, Eponine, who always picked up his phone within 10 seconds.

“You worked late last night and woke up in the afternoon, didn’t you? And you are drinking _now_.”

Eponine sounded anxious.

“It’s too early.”

It was too early for her being anxious.

“What? You told me that waking up in the afternoon once caused a panic attack on you and now I’m on my way to your flat because I care about you and you tell me it’s too _early_?!”

“No, I didn’t mean it. I…well, I admit that I’m drinking and depressed but today feels… okay.” Grantaire looked guiltily at the wine bottle in his hand, “Thank you, ‘Ponine, it’s very sweet of you to check me every day in case I committed suicide with loneliness and rums and wines and vodka.”

“You bastard.”

“I know.”

Eponine hang up right after that and Grantaire knew there was something wrong about her. She literally asked his condition, possibly to make sure if his condition was qualified enough to help her.

There was a guy, Marius Pontmercy, who grew up with Eponine but in a totally different social rank. Eponine’s father earned his living running an inn, a very small and filthy one. Most of the customers were tourists visiting Rosol Abbey, which was Pontmercys’ property. Grantaire could understand Eponine’s affection (even infatuation) to that Pontmercy boy. And he do understand him to only regard Eponine as a endearing friend. He and Marius even made friend to each other. That boy was too enthusiastic about everything.

He didn’t blame him, until he found Marius’ acquaintance with Enjolras.

If Eponine was running to her best friend so helplessly, then Grantaire could at least expect some news about Marius.

He sighed, burying his face in his hands.

He felt sorry and sad for Eponine already.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Eponine arrived thirty minutes later, knocking Grantaire’s door like she hated the door for banning her from seeing her friend sooner.

Grantaire opened the door and Eponine flied into his unprepared arms. He took a few steps back to restore their balance.

“Thanks for welcoming me even when you just woke up in the afternoon, R. I love you.” Eponine said to his neck.

Grantaire patted her on her back, gently, holding her tighter.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. Hey, just tell me what happened. Have some faith on my delicate mental health.”

Eponine let him go, and studied him worriedly.

He smiled as good-looking as he can: “Just trust me. I won’t collapse before you this time. You know you need me now, and I’m right here.”

She looked persuaded. Grantaire closed the door and brought her to the living room. There were a few bottles of wine on the table, some nearly empty and some half full. Grantaire didn’t prepare them. There was no need to prepare alcohol in his flat.

Eponine sat in the sofa, looking at the ceiling absent-mindedly while Grantaire poured a bottle of hot water for her. She had definitely cried on her way here.

“‘Ponine?” Grantaire asked softly.

She took the cup, drank, and tears started to fill up her beautiful eyes again. “I…I attended a book-sighing this afternoon. I should still be attending it now but I got out early.” She took Grantaire’s hand, and breathed, “I was invited because last month I sent the publisher some short stories and the feedbacks are actually quite good. So they included me in one of their short story collections. And there was also a girl, Cosette, the same as my age, who wrote _One Day More_ , you know? There was also some of her stories in that collection.”

Grantaire nodded quietly with patience. He had already linked some informations together. He knew Eponine invited Marius Pontmercy to the book-signing. She told him a few days ago and had been expecting it for over a week.

“Some of my fans, mostly my fanfic readers heard about it and rushed to the signing. I was so flattered and was trying hard to show them my best self. And, you know, I was not even looking at him and definitely not happy only for his attendance and…”

Eponine paused sharply, like too much sourness blocked her up, preventing her from saying anything. She chuckled suddenly, sounded dry and ironic.

“He was talking to her. _She was talking to him_. And, you know, the dramatic part was that…I knew that girl, I recalled her. She lived with me for approximately a year when I was 6 or 7 years old.”

Grantaire blinked. “Cosette?”

“Cosette. Blond, pale little Cosette.”

Eponine fell into her memories for a little while, and Grantraire just waited. He had turned out the light in the room when pouring Ep hot water, so there was only darkness outside the window.

“My memories are not specific. Her mother was some runaway bride from a big family. We didn’t know who her father was and took care of her for a year while her mother was under treatment in a mental hospital, during which she met a man and married him. She died that winter and Cosette’s step father took her away soon.”

Grantaire couldn’t help himself imagining a story between Cosette’s mother and her step father. That man met a woman in her worst state, fell in love with her, and raised her child for twenty years.

Eponine nodded: “Yeah, what a beautiful story, right? I think she wrote it in _One Day More_ and I just didn’t recognise it before.”

“Then what happened? What happened made you run out of a signing full of your fans?”

“I was going to greet her at first. I wanted to say hello and told her how much I loved her book and suddenly, suddenly I saw his face. R, I saw his face. Full of fondness and…crush.”

Eponine smiled, which broke Grantaire’s heart.

“They love each other, at their first sight.”

 

Grantaire felt sorry for himself.

He had woke up in the afternoon, then listened to his best friend’s lamentable love story, now lying on the floor, drunk.

Actually, his Eponine knew her blind love every rationally. She had been trying to give up on this half-hearted love. Today was just another push, a fatal one. He could see how Eponine was saying farewell to her past by drinking with him, while he was just burying his own frustration in alcohol once again.

The first time he saw Enjolras…the first time he saw his Apollo was in a ice cream polar, and Enjolras was drinking milk shake. _Vanilla_ flavour. And as that man faced the sun, he casted no shadow.

Grantaire drained the last drop from the bottle near his feet, then tossed it even further. He crawled to his phone, checking notifications. He tried very hard to read Marius’ text, but maybe because he was too drunk, Marius entirely made no sense.

_oh my god do you know her_

What the hell could that mean?

Grantaire looked back to see Eponine sleeping peacefully, exhausted, leaning on his sofa. He lay back on the floor again, and texted Marius back.

_whatthehelldoyou need somewine_

The light looked dizzy on the ceiling. Grantaire thought of that website, AO3. He was really surprised because he didn’t thought Enjolras would pick up a nickname like that. Maybe he inherited his parents’ non-tasting taste about giving name.

Enjolras.

He portrayed that name by his lips.

Then again, and again.

Marius texted another two messages, describing the same story he had heard from Ep in a reversed view. That man was so blessed. Marius Pontmercy was raised in a wealthy family, being loved by some one as perfect as Ep, holding Enjolras’ precious patience as if he was a little brother to him, and now, had just met his fated lover, who also fell for him instantly.

How could God be unfair like this?

Grantaire was on tumblr when Enjolras’ message arrived. He didn’t realise it was from Enjolras but his instinct pointed directly to Apollo after he finished reading it, no matter how much his sanity disagree.

He couldn’t prevent himself from replying.

He blurted out something, hit “send” button faultily, then blurted even more things without even a hint of logic. Enjolras of course didn’t text back. Grantaire eventually started to think and…how could he didn’t think of the possibility that Enjolras simply sent that message to the wrong person?

Not healthy to drink so late. Obviously he meant the last sentence of Marius’ mass texted message.

He was nearly beaten up by his frustration and self pity and the killing desire to own that message with Enjolras’ typical way to show his concern. He fucking envied Marius. He envied Marius so much that he disdain himself. Eponine knew the feeling to want something or someone so eagerly and deeply into the bone when they were just not yours. Eponine knew it, Enjolras didn’t, nor did Marius, nor did Combeferre or Courf or Cosette.

Grantaire felt vaguely that his phone buzzed. It was Enjolras. He could tell by the vibration. He had set his vibration different from other people in his contacts.

_Sorry, I was reading. Voltaire. Yes I think it is great for Marius. Do you think it is good for AO3 to category works based on fandoms and relationships?_

So he didn’t know about Eponine. What a truth. Grantaire’s biggest thing in this day didn’t worth an awareness of others.

He answered the question about AO3 carefully but with some…some detestation. It was very cruel to think the whole thing in this way, he was aware of it and didn’t know how to restore his interest back.

To sort and filter works by tags and relationships. Grantaire had been thinking of it for a while. He wanted to build some illusion like _Enjolras and him secretly shared many ideas_. But he failed.

_Tell me a way to praise you without making you think it perfunctory._

Wow, that was something new. Grantaire laughed at that message dryly. Enjolras was in a very good mood, because of Marius’ love life, while he and his best friend in a unprecedentedly shitty one for the same reason.

_Do you know I love you? More than Marius’ love towards his shining new girl._

He typed these for sheer vent and deleted the whole sentence as soon as he can. He let the cursor ticked for a few seconds before texted _drink with me_ and hit send.

Grantaire threw his phone on the sofa, then did one last thing before falling asleep. He grabbed Eponine’s phone and deleted the two massages from Marius.


	6. Chapter 6

The website had been tested within a small group for nearly a month, and the feedbacks were quite beyond their expectation. Writers liked AO3, readers liked it even more.

Friday happened to be the end of that month, so Enjolras decided to officially put AO3 online as an _object_ of the party. Marius would be ecstatic, and Cosette would be totally amazed by them. He discussed it with Combeferre, Courfeyrac kissed him for that suggestion.

“So you finally dare to give birth to your child!” Courfeyrac cheered.

Combeferre smirked, because he liked Courfeyrac too much.

“OUR child.” Enjolras corrected him dryly.

Courf didn’t deny this time, he kind of enjoyed Enjolras calling AO3 their child. Enjolras had known that he sometimes appreciate his blond hair and pretty face sexually, like the way he even adored Grantaire drunk and his daily fantasy about Eponine.

“Did you invited Eponine?” he asked before walking out of Musain.

Courfeyrac’s eyes widened: “How would I even dare to?”

“I invited her.” Comberferre interrupted calmly, “And she said she had already been invited by Marius.”

Courfeyrac suddenly stopped walking.

Enjolras frowned: “She was and acquaintance with Marius?”

“They grew up together.”

“What the fuck.”

Something from far away popped into Enjolras’ mind. About three years ago, that was another remarkable day between him and Grantaire. Grantaire kind of lost his temper thoroughly due to alcohol and some comment Enjolras had made of him and he just shouted at Enjolras with all the taunt he could build.

Grantaire had thought his justice cared too less about people’s lives in reality, about right now. And so had been he, the fearless leader.

A selfish idealist. He had said.

“I don’t even know you really…”

“What?” Combeferre might have sensed what he was thinking, “You mean Eponine?”

“How long have you two been closed enough that you could be the one who invited her to our party?”

Combeferre sighed: “I sent her the first message last month. We went for dinner several times.”

“You two were on a date?”

“No. And I kind of figured out the reason.”

“Then why?”

Combeferre flinched. He never flinched.

“I don’t want to talk about it now, Enjolras.”

 

****************

Friday night came faster than Enjolras’ expectation. He wanted to dig out more informations about Eponine and Marius. He asked Grantaire of course, who ignored his message intendedly and replied everything else Enjolras sent him. There was something Grantaire blamed him for, Enjolras could sense it, but couldn't figure what.

He and Combeferre texted everyone involved in the AO3 project who are mostly also acquainted with either Marius or the ABC. Courfeyrac had gone early to Marius’ preparing the party and some surprise for Cosette. And Eponine had gone early too, which left Grantaire wondering on the internet aimlessly for over an hour.

AO3 had a backstage data base. Enjolras recognised capital R’s IP almost instantly and followed it to various fanfics within an extremely huge range. Grantaire knew almost everything about fandoms, of movies, comics, tv series and even animations. He found that Grantaire seemed prefer English literatures, for he intendedly searched fanfics such as _Ten Things About Darcy and Binley_.

Men or women, they all seemed the very same to Enjolras. He barely noticed one with his/her gender. As he might think, Eponine and Marius kind of had a similar sex. He indeed saw many common details shared by the two after he knew about their history. Enjolras always had a well-functioned brain and he figured out very quickly that the day Marius met Cosette was very likely to be the day Eponine’s heart broke.

That was why Combeferre had flinched, and also why Grantaire had felt some sort of strange that night.

Grantaire had seemed drunk, more than a daily level, turning him into his typical passive-aggressive mode deeper than usual.

Enjolras was reading the same fanfic Grantaire was reading when he got the massage from Courfeyrac, telling him it was time to go. He left the webpage there and saw Grantaire logging out while closing the database. He must have received the same message then.

He didn’t overcome the temptation to text Grantaire. What a peeping tom. He mocked himself inwardly.

_I will drop by and catch you. Don’t let the wine go to your brain._

The expected reply came seconds later.

_how can you even know im drinking before the party_

Enjolras didn’t reply to that. He was relieved. It was not a refuse and certainly not a question about the reason of his suddenly consideration. Grantaire accepted him like he always had, which was very a kindness, a tenderness, but as well as a cruelty.

A cruelty not to Enjolras, but to the cynic himself.

 

*****************

As in any other day, Grantaire hated the sunset. He loved the upcoming night which would help him to hide, he just wished that daylight could be turned to a darkness all of a sudden, sparing him the suffering to see it dying out.

It was like seeing Apollo die.

There was already alcohol in his blood, so he was going to walk to avoid the crowd in the metro station. Then Enjolras’ message came.

Grantaire was in a good mood, which made him partly ignored Enjolras’ motivation to offer him a ride. His brain wanted to figure out why. He always wanted to know everything about that blond bastard, but he could try to suppress that urge for a while.

Enjoras was waiting in the car when he came out. And judging by his facial expression and body language, he was not impatient. Grantaire knew, immediately, that Enjolras came here for a reason.

Why the fuck did he feel disappointed about this conclusion.

He walked to the car, opened the door, and tottered in without a word. Enjolras glanced at him and his wine bottle, making no comment.

“I thought Eponine would come with you.” Enjolras finally said.

“No. She went early to help them.” Grantaire failed to not roll his eyes, “Help Marius, more precisely.”

“Yeah, I kind of become aware of that.”

Enjolras consciously looked out of his side of the window. _So it is_. Grantaire thought. It was the reason behind this ride. Because he couldn't get anymore information from Grantaire just through texting. For some reason, Enjolras seemed suddenly become interested in this Eponine-Marius-Cosette triangle.

Grantaire really thought for a moment, and drank, then asked.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you suddenly interested in their…whatever.”

Enjolras winced: “I didn’t know they knew each other until recently.”

“They fucking grew up together.”

“I know it, at least now.”

There was an intense silence after that. Then, Grantaire sighed.

“What do you want to know from me?”

“Is Eponine…dose she still have a crush on Marius?”

The question sent a hysterical laugh to Grantaire’s throat: “Honestly, I don’t know. She has been trying to give up for a while. But you know, this kind of things never work in this way. It’s not like you could just _decide_ to stop feeling it one day and you succeed within an hour. Not every one is like you, Apollo, such focus, such self-control, so sure about yourself all the time—”

Grantaire shut up. He had said too much. He knew he had. But things also didn’t work in this way, in which he told himself not to confess, not to expect, then he didn’t.

To dig himself out of self-pity, he chose the alcohol to blame.

But however he hated this situation, Grantaire always wanted so, so badly, to reveal everything to Enjolras. He could, but he wouldn’t. He just felt the desire all the time.

“Sorry.” he pitched his nose bridge hardly, and exhaled, “It’s just…Eponine. I witnessed too much pain in her through all these years. She deserves better.”

Grantaire could feel how Enjolras had been provoked at first and then softened because of his follow-up words, and how he was still annoyed by Grantaire’s sudden outburst.

“I understand.” he finally said.

They remained peace and quiet for the rest drive. But something had been pierced. They separated and headed for different direction as soon as they entered Corinthe.


	7. Chapter 7

Corinthe had been a Sherlock Holmes theme cafe in its first year. The second year, its owner decorated a quarter of it into a Doctor Who fan club. And three years later, it has three floors and five different themes, the third floor of which had become a gathering place for ABC since last August.

Some customers in the first floor greeted Enjolras and toasted their drinks to Grantaire. Grantaire toasted back, using it as an excuse to pull himself away from Enjolras. He had started feeling uncomfortable near his Apollo for a while. He needed to breathe.

“R!”

He was called by a familiar voice. When he turned, he saw a sweet girl with a beautiful long black hair raised from her seat and headed for him.

Floreal wore a TARDIS shape blue dress, looking incredibly in character. Of course that dress was designed by herself. She was a goddess in designing.

“Hello, my lady.” he hugged her and kissed her on her cheeks, “You look amazing.”

“Thanks, I know it.”

Floreal finally let him go, looking at the end of the footstep, and smirked at him.

“Is that blond guy your Apollo?”

“He is not mine.”

“He will be.”

“Oh just fuck that.”

Grantaire felt really tired of all this.

“What?” Floreal jerked her head a little, “You are R. You can just paint something for him and sent it as a birthday gift and he will be totally yours at the first glance of your fanart. What’s his favourite fandom?”

“Star Trek.”

“Oh,” that girl blinked, “which happen to be the only fandom you don’t have too much work about, no matter how much and how long you’ve been into it. I think I finally figure out the reason. You really don’t know they once had a debate about this ‘why doesn't R do Star Trek’ thing, do you?”

Grantaire chuckled: “They are hilarious.”

Floreal stared him for a moment, and then, looking like she eventually made some decision, she pushed Grantaire to the stairs.

“Up you go, my Turner, Van Gogh and Caravaggio. He looks beautiful enough for you, maybe even good enough, judging by his reaction when he saw me hugging you.”

“I won’t believe you!”

“You should.”

 

**************

Cosette turned out to be a sweetheart, who seemed very smart but blushed every time Marius looked at her. They were in love. And Eponine was not alright.

Grantaire drank most time of the party in a corner, with a furious heart, seeing how Eponine smiled at Marius, even once pushed Cosette to him and laughed.

He needed to be drunk, so everything were a little blurry after 11 pm. Courfeyrac tried to pull him into their mess several times. The last kick was almost half an hour ago, which Grantaire just kissed away, on Courf’s lips, with a breath full of wine.

At eleven thirty, everything started.

First of all, Enjolras called for a full attention. People stopped in a few seconds. Enjolras nodded at Combeferre, then Combeferre changed the Powerpoint to another page, containing some test datas of AO3.

“This is the data for a month and some comments. And by all these, I think it’s time to push our Archive to the public.” Combeferre closed the Powerpoint and opened the backstage of AO3, “I talked this with Jehan, we all think that some people should be honoured more straightforwardly. So we put a picture generated by names on the main page—I know it’s kind of personal, and thus unprofessional. But I think we deserve it.”

Then he opened the main page of AO3, and there was the picture. Grantaire mentally praised the person or the machine that generated this, since it looked quite good even through such a strict eye of him. Enjolras’ name was in the center, coloured red, surrounded by all the other names. Grantaire recognised his own mark of R beside Enjolras, in green, but in a smaller size. Then he realise that it was not just his mark, it was his full name, in which only “R” was capital and bold.

That was really good. So he whistled at it.

Eponine’s name was in black. Suited her. Marius’ name also in black but twisted with some golden lines in representative of Cosette. The girl gasped at those lines.

“So I suppose everyone is satisfied with it?”

People either nodded or smiled, except Grantaire.

Even Combeferre chose to be tolerant. Enjolras was the one who approached him for the first time in this night, wincing.

Enjolras’ voice was cold and heartless.

“Are you satisfied with it, R?”

Grantaire didn’t answer. He didn’t know how. He didn’t want his friends who made this upset but was also not willing to admit in such an ambushed and challenged condition.

Enjolras looked straight into his eyes and clinched his jaw, starting to say something.

Grantaire interrupted abruptly.

“Really, Apollo? Really?” his tune was full of faked surprise and irony, “Do you really care about my opinion as such?”

“Or what? You sound like you prefer me not to care.”

“Spare me.” Grantaire laughed bitterly.

Enjolras shook his head: “What, Grantaire. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you really not able to be cooperated just once? Not even for your friends, for yourself, for something you really love and dedicate into?”

Again, he didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He couldn't put Eponine’s half secret out there in the bare light. And Enjolras knew he couldn't and used it. Fuck him.

“Grantaire, after all, it was you who offered to be in this…and I, I thought you finally changed—”

What?

Courfeyrac suddenly went all pale in the background, and mouthed him a “sorry”.

This was hilarious.

Something left him, he felt both relieved and killed. He took his time to stand up, drank his wine dry, before he stepped out of his corner and passed Enjolras, to Eponine.

“Are you going with me or not?” he asked quietly.

Eponine’s face went totally blank for a splint second, and all her distorted smile was gone after this moment. She seemed back to herself again.

“Okay, let’s go.” she took Grantaire’s left arm and walked directly to the stair.

“‘Ponine!”  
“Grantaire!”

Marius and Enjolras called at the same time. Marius sounded frightened and Enjolras furious.

“For what it’s worth, Grantaire. At least show some respect to what you’ve been liking for years!”

Grantaire literally couldn't help himself this time.

“Respect? Are we talking about respect now?” he turned to face the leader in red, “Can I ask some respect for Eponine then? Can I ask some respect for the alcohol in my blood? I can’t do anything. I’m not able to do anything, or be anyone, Enjolras. Can you respect this? Can you ‘at least’ fucking accept this!”

Marius flinched, “Eponine? What…what’s the matter with—”

“Would you please shut up, boy! Just go back hooking up with your shiny new girl and leave us alone!”

“Grantaire.”

This time was Combeferre, in a warning tune.

Eponine was shaking. Grantaire knew he had fucked up. But, again, he couldn’t control himself.

“And to you, my Apollo.” he tried to smile but gave up, “Whatever. I repeat. Whatever. I indeed didn’t offer to join, and I think it’s my cue to leave now.”

He paused for a moment, and swallowed.

“You know, I,” he breathed, “I literally can’t leave you. But I’m dealing with that. Hope it won’t be a big problem. Maybe I could just die in this procedure. That would be better, and easier.”

Whatever Enjolras was going to say, died in his throat.


	8. Chapter 8

He and Eponine got drunk together, and by tasting the alcohol in his brain, he knew they needed to get high. Eponine smiled softly and agreed him cheerfully.  
It always made him hurt, that Eponine could be so tender and clawless when she was partly unconscious. And that made him angry as well, although he knew it was not anyone’s fault—and the same with his condition.

They went out of a pub and headed for another, one Eponine called “a good place for getting high”. Grantaire didn’t want his mind to slip into anywhere near the fearless leader, so he thought of Eponine and her connection with the getting-high pub……well, Montparnasse, maybe. He could only recall some vague name of a man who was handsome and filthy.

“Thank you, R, for dragging me out of the fucking party.” Eponine tried to put an arm around his shoulder but failed. Her arm missed his shoulder and almost hit his head.

“Oi.” he complained, then pulled her arm and put it on his shoulder.

She smiled shamelessly: “Sorry.”

By the time they reached Montparnasse’s pub, they were singing and dancing while magically walking at the same time. Grantaire was hardly going to raise his one foot to step in the pub when he realised, suddenly, unbelievably, Eponine disappeared.

“What the……Ep……”

He stepped out, looking around, and found nothing. He winced and looked around again. Still nothing.

“Behind you. Turn around.”

A voice came out of nowhere. Definitely nowhere. A voice that sent some sting to his head because, well, that voice seemed to belong to an annoying person. After almost half a minute, he remembered that he had forgot to check his back.

So he turned around, as the voice had ordered.

And there was Eponine.

There were Combeferre and Enjolras as well.

Combeferre was busy checking Eponine’s state, making sure she was alright. He visibly relieved when he found out that it was just some alcohol. And more strangely, Eponine seemed totally comfortable leaning on Combeferre’s chest.

The world could always slam him for something he didn’t know.

Combeferre just let Eponine rest on his shoulder and looked at Enjolras, who was starring at Grantaire like Grantaire just swallowed a elephant or something.

Then he remembered, everything. The two-hour-drinking was thrown in vain.

“I need to take care of her.” Combeferre said quietly, sighing.

Enjolras didn’t answer him, he just _nodded_. Grantaire laughed at it because he looked like giving a _permission_ to his dearest lieutenant. But Combeferre somehow accepted that and left with Eponine.

The leaving of the third guy sucked away all his gut to laugh anymore.

They stayed silent for a long suffocating second. Enjolras didn’t even shifte. Grantaire had a feel that he was being tortured by his Apollo, with a even more ridiculous feeling that his Apollo also suffered in this second.

“Grantaire.” Enjolras called his name.

“Yes?”

Enjolras stared for a second longer, and sighed, and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Grantaire smirked himself inwardly. He really didn't want to hear this.

So he took his way bypass Enjolras and started walking away.

“No.” Enjolras protested immediately, “Grantaire. Grantaire please don’t go.”

Grantaire pretended to be deaf, more to himself than to Enjolras. His intended deafness enraged Enjolras and Grantaire felt his wrist caught, very tightly.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Let to of me.”

Enjolras of course didn’t obey.

“Come on, Apollo, what’s the point of it?”

“What’s the point of what?”

“What’s the point of not letting me go? What’s the point of your apology? Of all your effort to mend this?” Grantaire turned and looked Enjolras in the eye, “What’s the point of all this, Enjolras? You don’t even want me there, so what’s the point of coming out and looking for me? Oh, wait, maybe not me. You were looking for Eponine, right? Combeferre might have made you out. So what’s the point of pretending to care? Spare me some dignity!”

“I’m not pretending to care.”

Enjolras chose this one to deny, of all the other questions. Good.

Grantaire must have revealed his thoughts on his face, because Enjolras looked bitter all of a sudden.

“You believe it or not, I am not pretending. And why don’t you stop pretending that _you_ don’t care?”

Grantaire felt weak, and shook his head: “Please, you are not cruel enough to use this. I just told you this _two hours ago_. You’re not heartless enough to adapt so quickly about this.”

“So you are telling me that to use your own damage against me is merciful?”

Grantaire laughed. His heartbeat accelerated. He couldn’t tell how much pain he was in, because the adrenaline took all the calmness away from him. The adrenaline was reasonable, seriously, as this indeed was a fatal position for him. He needed to survive.

“Here we are again, Apollo. You are trying to fool me that you care. Maybe you are trying to fool yourself as well and you don’t even realise it.”

Enjolras’ hold tightened. “Fuck it, Grantaire. You are the one who are trying to lie to yourself. Or you won’t even think saying this to me can hurt me in anyway.”

Again, Enjolras stabbed him right on his heart. Top mark. The middle of the bull’s eye.

Enjolras was right. They knew each other too well, somehow.

And by this unexplainable tacitness, they both knew that Enjolras had went too far again in this night. Grantaire had also been too far once by outbursting to everyone earlier, so it was a 2-1.

And by the same unexplainable tacitness, Enjolras loosened his grip the same time Grantaire shook his hand off.

Grantaire hesitated for a moment, then started leaving. The sound of his steps slipping away sent a shell-shock coldness into Enjolras’ spine and he panicked.

His lips was trembling harder than he could ever imagine.

“No.” he whispered, “Please. Please don’t leave me.”

That made Grantaire suddenly locked in where he had been, deadly.

He couldn’t. Whomever he was trying to be—whomever he was trying to persuade himself to be, he couldn’t ignore such a clear and eager require from Enjolras.

He also couldn’t turn to look at Enjolras, because he was already too cruel to himself.

“I was not pretending.” after a long moment, Enjolras finally started, “To care, to try to do something about us, to apologise. However many excuses I can make for my self, I know I was no-doubtly wrong to judge you and control you in such a way. It was just……I should have been always reminding myself this, but Courf told me you _offered_ to help and heartly approved my idea about AO3 and that got me too carried away.”

Grantaire was wincing, with an obvious tiredness.

“I…don’t think I know what you are talking about.”

“I want to yell at you all the time, yes. I disapprove of you most of the time, yes. You are quite annoying sometime, you know. And I despise your attitude towards life, yes. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Ok, if you do, then how _sick_ are you? To despise and scorn someone you care about all the time? What a pervert!”

Enjolras sighed: “Be serious.”

“You know I am wild.” Grantaire’s voice darkened, “Use English, Enjolras. I’m not going to stand in this freezing night and listen to you contemning me.”

“I’m not—” Enjolras stopped himself from another turn of useless arguing. He winced, and stepped a little closer to Grantaire, “Are you cold?”

“Stop this.”

“Ok.” Enjolras bowed his head and prepared himself.

Grantaire’s heart was pounding. But whatever Enjolras was going to say, to hurt him further or deeper, he knew he had already failed to leave this man. _We are drawn to what we lack_. Grantaire thought bitterly.

“It sounds ridiculous, because that was not just care.” Enjolras said steadily, “It was love, or need, whichever you prefer.”

The moment Enjolras said out was the moment Grantaire understood that he had already knew this, for quite a long time. Though he still needed some explanation for his logical part.

“ _What_.”

“We are tied together, Grantaire. I thought you had already realised it? It’s not like you can ever push me away. And I can’t, as well.”

“Yes, you’re right. I can’t.” he admitted as soon as he could because he couldn’t deny it even by given millions of years, “But Enjolras……I thought what really happened was me trying to offer you everything I have while I don’t have anything you _want_.”

Someone passing by gave them a very sneering look and Enjolras didn’t even noticed.

He just looked up, and approached himself to Grantaire, and put a hand on the side of Grantaire’s neck like he was going to kiss him. He thumb stroked Grantaire’s face gently.

Fuck, the sun was burning, in the midnight, in front of Grantaire.

“Indeed, you have something I want.” he said slowly, “Something I need, more precisely. As we all know, everything has a risk. And I’m aware that the path I’ve chosen is even more risky than a normal one. I know I…may not last one day and, to be honest, I am afraid. So, in the end, I want someone to…to collect me. I want you to be there to collect me. I want to collected by you and rest beside you.—Is that too much to ask?”

Grantaire was chocked and his Apollo was so, so sincere.

Grantaire laughed.

“Do you really have to stick to your things about democracy and equality and _ask_?”

They were so mean to be together.

Enjolras clinched his jaw: “I was not going to, if not because of all what happened recently. I could have not.”

Something clicked in the back of Grantaire’s mind and his eye widened.

“Yes, we could have avoid this.” he casually put his hands on Enjolras’ waist, shaking head with disbelief, “We were set up. Fuck. Courfeyrac. Maybe also  _Combeferre_ behind him.”

Enjolras’ thumb stopped for a moment. He thought everything through, and nodded dryly. “You are right.”

“What a shame.”

“Yeah.”

So Enjolras leaned in and kissed him.

Finally.

“You taste like alcohol.”

“ _So what_.”

“Nothing.”

**Author's Note:**

> well...finally i did this?  
> and by doing this fic...i indeed felt the cultural gap....hope that most of the actions and reactions of characters are understandable...._(:з」∠)_  
> and, my deepest and most-wanted hope is that you can enjoy this work.  
> however much, it would be my pleasure.  
> and it would worth it.


End file.
